Claiming Perks
by chartreuseian
Summary: Nikola wants a great big wad of cash. Helen is dubious but, in the end, finds there are perks to her generosity. Non-shippy funtimes of fluffiness.


**To be honest, I never intended to publish this. It was just one of those silly ideas that I had to write out of my head. But today, **_**my**_** perk arrived and it's made me so grin-y, that I can't not. **

**For those of you who didn't know, a while back, The Oatmeal, along with an organisation of Tesla enthusiasts did a fundraiser to try and raise enough money to buy Tesla's old laboratory at Wardenclyffe so that they could turn it into a Tesla museum and, as incentive, for each donation of a certain amount, you got a 'perk'. **

**Massive thanks goes to insufferablyteslen because she always reads stupid snippets of my stuff and doesn't complain when I complain to her about the shitness of said snippets. Also, she's pretty freakin' amazing.**

**Also, this is Teslen that is not shippy. At all. Well, onesided maybe.**

**xx**

* * *

"Helen?"

Helen looked up just in time to see the doors of her new office slid open with a barely audible hiss. She sighed, rolling her shoulders. Apparently the tea break she'd been putting off was calling her name. Nikola hurried through, his stride purposeful enough that she began to worry about what would come out of his mouth.

"I need $33,333."

She blinked at him.

"Pardon?"

"I need $33,333," he said again, this time a little slower though with no less conviction.

Setting down the pen in her hand, Helen shifted in her seat to properly face the man standing on the other side of her desk. His hands were perched on his hips expectantly; head cocked ever so slightly while his eyes betrayed how serious he was being.

"Thirty three thousand, three hundred and thirty three dollars?" Helen clarified.

"Yes."

"Any particular reason?"

"I intend to make a charitable donation."

She only just stopped herself from snorting. His eyes narrowed at her tight mouth, apparently picking up on her barely restrained mirth.

"To whom?" she asked. Her voice was suitably neutral though she suspected he could hear the scepticism just as well as she could.

"The Oatmeal."

Helen could feel her eyebrows rising up to her hairline but there was little she could do about it.

"Via Indiegogo."

None of the words he was saying made sense to her.

"You want $30,000 to give to oatmeal?" she tried, unable to keep a frown from her face. Reaching up, she rubbed her temple.

"No," Nikola said with a heavy sigh. "I want $33,333 to donate to _The_ Oatmeal."

Helen took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter.

"And you cannot use your own funds because..."

"My... assets are less monetary than yours," he replied loftily. Helen arched an eyebrow at him and waited. "SCIU took almost every penny I had," he admitted finally. There was the barest hint of a pout on his lips.

"Well then, I suggest you get yourself a job," Helen said, shaking her head. "I cannot simply give you Sanctuary funds to do with as you please, Nikola."

"But it's for a good cause," he whined, leaning across her desk, planting one hand in the middle of the papers she'd been reading. "And you could write it off... A tax thing, if you will."

"I don't pay tax," she said with a sigh. "With me being legally dead and all that..."

"But don't you have some kind of... I don't know, money making ventures in a thousand different names you could shove it through?"

"Nikola..."

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it worthy of your money."

"Anything for your own personal gain does not count as a 'charitable endeavour'," she reminded him.

"I'm offended," he cried, raising a hand to his chest. "Do you really think so little of me?"

The look she gave him seemed to suffice as an answer because he waved her off.

"I'm a changed man," he tried. "Watching you explode does strange things to ones consciences."

Helen sighed and looked back up at him. Apparently he was set on this and, unless she could come up with a reason stronger than 'I don't want to', she had the distinct feeling Nikola would stay and annoy her into giving in.

"Have a seat," she said, resigned to her fate. "I need more detail than $33,333 for oatmeal."

"_The_ Oatmeal," he replied, exasperated. "Just... Ack. Fine. Move. I'll show you." Before Helen could tell him to sit once more, he was striding around her desk, pushing her chair back and away from the desk.

"Nikola!" she cried, grabbing the edge of her desk to stop herself from rolling across the hardwood floor.

He wasn't paying attention to her though, instead commandeering her computer with a series of quick key strokes. Helen bit back another yelp and pushed forwards, doing her best to shove him away. Nikola stepped aside after a particularly violent jab to the ribs, scowling as he did so.

"I was just trying to show you," he grumbled.

"I am perfectly capable of using my own computer," she chastised. "Now, tell me, _not_ show me what it is you're on about."

"Go to theoatmeal dot com ," he muttered, still rubbing his ribs.

Helen gave him a strange look before turning back to her keyboard. Slowly enough that she knew it would frustrate him beyond belief, she proceeded to pick up where he left off, typing in the address.

After a moment of squinting, she gave in and reached for her reading glasses, pretending it wasn't really conceding defeat.

"Glasses?" Nikola asked and she cringed.

"Quiet, Nikola," she muttered.

"But-"

"I have a loaded gun in my draw and you're on thin ice as it is."

She flicked her gaze over at him and watched as he silently weighed up his chances before, thankfully, settling on silence. With a smug smile, Helen turned back to the screen. Unfortunately, when she realised she was looking at a website dedicated to a breakfast food, her smile fell to make way for a concerned frown. Nikola had always been eccentric but this was something else entirely.

"Nikola," she began slowly.

He half jumped to her side, peering at the screen for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh.

"Are you deaf as well as blind?" he asked scornfully. "I said 'the'. _The_ Oatmeal. Honestly woman..."

"Don't be so rude."

"Well don't be so..."

He, very wisely, did not finish his sentence, instead gesturing for Helen get back to the computer. Silently thankful for his restraint, Helen carefully retyped the address, enjoying the way he was fidgeting uncomfortably.

Finally, she leaned back, frowning at the screen.

"You want to give money to web comics," she said. It made no sense. Not that Nikola ever made much sense.

"No!" Nikola cried. "Gah! You're just... Can't you just give me the money and be done with it?"

"I'm not just going to give you $30,000," Helen retorted hotly. "I'm not a walking wallet for your pleasure, Nikola."

"Oh come, now," he tried. "I've been working for you and your little do-gooder causes for over a century. Surely I've earned more than a measly 30k."

Helen scoffed at that and rolled her eyes. "Yes, and do you have any idea how much damage you've caused in all that time? Damage that I have to pay to repair, might I add."

Nikola let out a small, strangled noise that she assumed was supposed to pass as a dismissal of the idea but instead he merely sounded slightly pained.

"But it's..." Nikola began again, this time a little quieter. "I..."

"Use your words, Niko," she teased in response.

"It's the Indiegogo campaign," he muttered. "They... they're raising money."

"That still doesn't explain why you need so much. Or so much of my money."

"I told you," he snapped. "I've got none. SCIU sucked me dry. I'm broke, happy?"

"A little," Helen said, holding back a smile.

Letting out an exasperated huff, Nikola pushed her rolling chair out of the way, sending her flying across the room to apparently give him better access to the computer. Flailing and screeching in a rather unladylike manner, Helen tried her best to steady herself but, until her chair crashed into the sofa by the window, she was unable to stop.

She leapt from the chair, fully prepared to see what a stake through the heart would do to her vampire friend but, just as she began striding back towards her desk, murder in her eyes, Nikola began backing away.

"Look," he said, gesturing to the computer screen, eyes wide and hands held up in surrender.

"You have a lot of nerve..." Helen muttered, ignoring his request.

"No, Helen. Look."

She lunged for him but he was too quick, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her around to face the computer screen. Helen fought him but his grip was too tight. Plus, when she saw what was obviously a very old picture of a very familiar tower on the screen, she became distracted.

It was Wardenclyffe.

"Nikola?"

His hands disappeared from her shoulders and he moved to stand next to her.

"They want to buy it," he said softly.

"And make a museum," she finished, scanning the screen. After a beat she turned back to Nikola, half smiling. Though his expression was carefully blank, Helen could see the excitement in his eyes. It was like a dream come true, in many ways.

She could see the words that he wasn't saying.

_They like me_.

Nikola had never been one to really seek approval, at least not on a personal note, instead certain that the genius of his creations would garner enough instead. He had never sought the spotlight because he thought _he_ deserved it, rather that his mind did. And Helen couldn't deny him that. This was public recognition of not only his mind, his genius and his creations, but also of the sympathy the world at large was starting to feel for the most under appreciated inventor of the twentieth century.

They love him.

Carefully, Helen closed the distance between them and took Nikola's hand firmly within her own.

"This is wonderful," she told him. "It's..."

"About time," he finished, flashing her a grin. Helen chuckled.

"Yes, that too, I suppose."

"So now you understand why I need the money," he continued enthusiastically.

At that, Helen had to sigh.

"I can't just give you $30,000, Nikola. No matter the cause."

"Firstly, it's $33,333," he half whined. "And why not?"

"Why such an exact amount?"

Nikola made a face and sighed, crossing his arms in annoyance.

"They give you perks for certain amounts," he grumbled.

Chuckling, Helen shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Nikola."

"What if I pretended to order $33,333 worth of equipment for the labs?"

"That would be fraud."

"Helen, this is wholly unfair."

Trying her best to ignore him, Helen turned and went to retrieve her chair, dragging it back to the proper position and shoving Nikola out of her way in the process.

"Go back to your work, Nikola," she said, trying to sound frustrated with him. She'd never been the best actress when Nikola was concerned but she had a plan and she needed to get him out of her office if only for however long it would take her to read through the webpage.

"But Helen-"

"I will consider finding a way for you to earn a smaller donation but, if you don't mind, I have a meeting in ten minutes."

For one, long second, Nikola stared at her petulantly. He was half pouting, disappointment evident but, to his credit, Nikola left with only a haughty glare. The snap of his shoes on the polish wooden floors, however, made Helen feel guilty for a brief second and, as she watched the doors close behind her friend, she wondered if it would have been kinder to simply tell him he could have the money. After all, there was no way she could actually say no to a request like the one he had presented. It was just that there was so little she could ever think to give him and this was what she could only call a golden opportunity.

Setting aside her uncertainties, Helen turned back to her computer screen. She had some perks to claim.

* * *

He estimated it had been about three months when he first noticed... it. Whatever it was. He wasn't sure if it was a series of odd coincidences or something more.

It had all started when he'd walked in on Huggy-bear and Blondie getting jiggy in the kitchen. Before turning away from what could only be described as a horrendous sight, he'd caught a glimpse of a T-shirt. Naturally, he'd caught a glimpse of a whole lot more but it was the image of Wardenclyffe on the chest of Blondie that really caught his attention. While part of his mind was busy imagining what that shirt would look like stretched across Helen's assets, a larger part was wondering at why she had such an item.

Then, at lunch, he'd wandered out into the gardens (trying to find a nicer image to have stuck in his mind than the primal thrusting of two buffoons), only to come across Booty playing baseball with her new husband and a few abnormal children. Normally he would have walked past them without a word (well, maybe just one, tiny cutting remark but still) but, for some reason, he had stopped to watch.

Booty was, it seemed, a halfway to decent player and she was running about the place with a speed that spoke of a lifetime of being chased. He'd applauded politely and she had given him a mock bow, taking off the baseball cap she wore as she did so. It, much like the shirt, bore an image of Warenclyffe and its tower. Before he could ask where she'd gotten such an item, her husband had jumped between them, swinging her about the air before a very public display of affection that had him turning back to the main building and shaking his head.

By the time he'd made it back inside, he'd put the whole thing down to a strange experience but, one that did not require further pondering. It was a sensible decision, he decided as he sat down at his desk to begin working again. And, much to his own surprise, he was able to ignore any niggling questions.

It was only when he wandered into Wolfgang's laboratory to provoke the younger man for entertainment that any thoughts of the mysterious Wardenclyffe images came back to his mind. The lab was, sadly, devoid of easily provokable HAP's but, on the main bench, sitting proudly above the clutter, was a miniature Tesla coil.

There was no doubt in Nikola's mind that it was anything else, after all, it wasn't something he'd easily forget the design of. Taking three quick steps forwards, Nikola crossed the room to further inspect the device but his attention was captured instead by a small booklet sitting to one side.

"The Greatest Geek Who Ever Lived," he breathed, tracing a finger over the words. Just below the title was a very, very unflattering caricature of himself. From that site. It was... it was... it was a perk. One of _the_ perks.

Quick as anything, Nikola turned on his heel and sped from the room, determined to get to the bottom of... whatever it was that was going on.

His first instincts had him striding towards Helen's office but, much to his chagrin, it was empty. Taking a quick look around, he smiled. Her tablet was missing. Which could mean only one thing; she was in the library. Plus there wasn't a cup of tea going cold beside an open file, meaning she hadn't been called away for a disaster. She only ever took her tablet when she was taking a moment for herself and on this pleasantly warm afternoon, it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility.

Nikola made an effort to slow down as he approached the library, straightening his jacket before walking through the elaborate doors.

Helen was, as expected, sitting in one of the plush arm chairs, curled around a book with the secret reading glasses (which Nikola found not so secretly sexy) perched on the tip of her nose.

Clearing his throat, Nikola sauntered across the room towards her, giving her his best smirk.

"Is there something you want to share with the class, Dr. Magnus?"

Her answering smirk made his fingertips tingle.

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about," she replied smoothly, slipping off her glasses.

"Oh come now, Helen."

"I am not a mind reader," she reminded him.

With a heavy sigh, Nikola perched on the edge of her armchair.

"This reeks of your kind of plan, you know," he told her. "It will be easier for all of us if you just come out and tell me what you've done."

"And what have I done?" she teased in reply.

"Well, I assume you didn't suggest that Huggybear get naked in the kitchen but the girl's shirt seems to be nothing of a coincidence."

He watched as she blushed slightly, a small frown appearing between her brows. Apparently the kitchen sex had not been of her doing, something that comforted him greatly.

"But Booty's cap? Well..." He shook his head. "Almost as obvious as the set up hero worship happening down in the HAP's lab."

Helen pulled a face, seemingly daring him to continue.

"Which leads me to wonder just what _you've _got to make my day." He leaned in closer to whisper in her ear, "A bra saying 'property of Tesla', perhaps?"

He wasn't surprised when she shoved at his chest to put some distance between them. Chuckling, Nikola straightened up.

"You're wholly inappropriate most of the time, you know that, right?" she bit back.

"It's all part of my charm," he replied loftily. "But of course, you already knew that, my dear."

"Utterly insufferable," she muttered, shaking her head. "You're making me wish I hadn't had _that _framed and hung in here." She gestured with an absent hand towards the door he'd entered through. Or, more specifically, to the poster that hung by the door. A poster of Wardenclyffe. A poster of Wardenclyffe signed by William Terbo, the last living relative of the late and great Nikola Tesla.

His jaw almost hit the ground.

"Helen," he began uncertainly. "I... I've... I'm speechless."

"You like it?" she queried softly and he turned back to face her.

"You know how I said I'd never been more attracted to you when you offered to revamp me?" he waited, enjoying the creeping uncertainty in her eyes. "Well, this surpasses that by a thousand."

Her smile, though a little guarded, was genuine.

"I'm glad you like it," she said earnestly. "I'll admit, I was worried it would come off as... well, creepy. Though I'm sure we wouldn't have had to donate so much money if you had simply asked Mr. Terbo to sign something for you. Something tells me he'd have been happy to help out. They say you met him once, when he was about eight."

"Tiny little kid. Scrappy and a little on the frail side," Nikola recalled. "And I think rather frightened of me. But then again, who isn't afraid of a crazy old Serbian man who talks to pigeons and builds death rays?"

"I was never afraid of you," Helen retorted. "Well, the death ray idea was a little frightening but I knew you couldn't possibly be that dumb."

Nikola rolled his eyes but dismissed the comment.

"So, if I may ask the indelicate question, how much did you donate?"

"Me, personally?" Helen asked, arching an eye brow. With a small smirk, she reached over and grabbed her tablet from the nearby table, flipping open the cover to show off a shiny bumper sticker affixed to the inside. "$33."

Chuckling, Nikola ran a finger over it. It read, and rightly so, 'Tesla Edison'.

"Damn straight," he said under his breath. "Though $33 doesn't seem like a rather generous contribution."

Helen gave him a smile and relaxed back into her chair. "I was not alone in my donation," she said cryptically.

"How much?"

"All together?"

"Yes."

She paused and her smile softened.

"Precisely $33,333."

Nikola found his heart caught in his throat. He'd managed to wheedle about $3000 out of her for a donation but even that had been under protest. In fact, he'd even considered stealing the other $30,000 from her but, at the last minute (when Heinrich walked in on him), he'd decided against it. Now he was more glad than ever that the damn wolf had forced him into having a conscience.

"You are a magnificent woman, you know that?"

"You could do to say it more often," she teased. "But honestly Nikola, I was glad to help. You deserve at least one monument per continent. Though you have to swear to me you won't get unbearable about this one like you did those little dolls made in your likene-"

While he did enjoy the sound of her voice, Nikola was unable to control himself any longer. Cutting her off, he leant down and kissed her soundly, enjoying the way she didn't pull back for a full ten seconds. And even when she did, her eyes were just a little glazed.

"What did you go and do that for?" she snapped, apparently not as affected as Nikola had originally thought.

"I'm claiming my perks," he replied huskily, leaning down for another kiss. Helen was prepared this time, putting a hand on his chest to keep him a bay.

"Your perks?" she echoed. "I'm the one who made the donations. Well, at least my aliases did."

"Fine then," Nikola allowed, once more leaning in for a kiss. "This is _your_ perk."

To her credit, Helen did laugh at the terrible joke Nikola hadn't actually expected to work and as she pushed him off the arm of the chair, she was smiling.

"I think you're missing the point of these perks, Nikola," she told him, sliding smoothly from the chair.

"Surely I deserve something though," he tried, following her as closely as he dared.

"For what, exactly?"

"For being Nikola Tesla!" he replied, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around until they were facing. Her arms somehow found themselves looped loosely around his neck though he had the distinct feeling she'd deny it if asked about it. "For being the genius who brought about the modern age," he continued. "For being the crazy Serbian scientist that legends can only dream of. For talking to pigeons and pretending to be crazy. For refusing to touch human hair. For not killing Edison though I totally could have. For doing everything in three. Or at least, in a multiple of three. Do you have any idea how annoying that can be?"

"You never did explain that to me," Helen replied with a bemused smile. "What was it with you and three."

At that he smirked.

"Three, six and nine," he corrected. "They are the most beautiful and perfect of all numbers. I have always thought as much, before the descent into madness we created to try and throw off the hounds. Even you and I fit the beauty that is those three numbers."

"And how is that?" she replied, still apparently happy to be in his arms.

"You shoot me nine times per century. You've willingly kissed me six times and on three occasions we have..." He trailed off, waggling his eyebrows at her as his hands trailed down to the curve of her hips.

Helen slapped his chest and stepped away from him.

"I should have known..." she grumbled. "Though your maths is incorrect. We've been... intimate more than three times. And shared more than six kisses."

"Oh , I only count since we became our immortal selves," he said loftily. "And it was three stints, if you will," Nikola clarified. "The first one lasted three weeks, the second six months and the third, nine billion years," he declared with a dramatic swing of his arms.

"Nine billion years?" Helen asked, apparently merely bemused by his antics. Then she frowned. "But you're wrong again. By that count, we're only at two."

"The third stint has yet to start," he supplied easily. "Though I think it's due to begin rather soon, don't you?"

Helen shoved at his chest, muttering something that sounded like 'perverted old vampire' but Nikola merely laughed. After all, he was a legend and an immortal.

He had all the time in the world to claim his perks.


End file.
